


Renewal

by byebyebluejay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comfort No Hurt, Fluff, Lie Low At Lupin's (Harry Potter), M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 10-20 Minutes, Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22940314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byebyebluejay/pseuds/byebyebluejay
Summary: After the events of Harry's third school year come to a close, Remus takes Sirius back to his woodland cottage. In a tender tribute to renewed friendships and old feelings, Remus takes it upon himself to ensure that Sirius receives some of the personal care he had been made to live without for so long.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 40
Kudos: 331
Collections: Remus Lupin Fest 2020





	Renewal

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 176: After finally being free from azkaban Remus helps trim Sirius's hair/beard. Sharing an Intimate moment after being separated for so long
> 
> Thanks so much to the Fest mods for taking so much time and effort to run this, and to the fantastic cuemusic for being my beta!
> 
> Podfic available here: <https://soundcloud.com/colette-tatou/renewal>

They went back to Wales together. Remus met Sirius in a cave above Hogsmeade they’d explored, tussled, and snoozed in as dog and wolf more than a decade ago, and Sirius had held onto Remus’s shoulder, and they apparated into Remus’s front garden. It was a grey evening, and darker under the shadow of the trees.

The cabin had never been anything fancy, but Remus’s love and attention had done wonders for the place. Once, Sirius had looked at Hogwarts and felt welcomed and at home. His most recent visit had ruined the nostalgia a bit. But Remus’s cabin seemed to extend the same sort of promise. Sirius looked over the riotous herb garden, with hearty sprigs of rosemary and sage, a plush sprawl of silver thyme, and a fragrant bed of mint; he couldn’t help but smile. The work of Remus’s hands was evident. He could see it, too, in the chunk of white rock salt laid away from the house for the deer, and in the birdfeeder hung in the little covered porch, and even in the plaid curtains he glimpsed through the windows, which looked like they had been patched together out of Remus’s old shirts.

“Look at you. Gardening. Sewing. Feeding the forest creatures. Are you visited by unicorns, or swarmed by fairies when you sing? I’m afraid I’m going to debauch your wholesomeness,” Sirius said.

Remus snorted as he stepped onto the porch and fished his keys out of his battered traveling cloak.

“Don’t look around back. My vegetable garden is very picturesque.”

“Oh, Moony,” Sirius said, clutching at his heart with one hand, “You can’t tell me things like that. If you own an apron, you’d better burn it. I don’t think I can take the quaintness.”

“You’re in luck. I don’t,” Remus said, opening the door and nodding for Sirius to follow.

There was a fine layer of dust over the floors and furniture, but with a broad sweep of his wand, Remus scoured it away, before making a little jab towards the brass candelabra, setting all the enchanted candles to light. The effect was very cozy; spreading warm light through the room. The couch was a little old and saggy, but Remus had a thick fleece blanket folded over the back of it. There was a bookcase of old school books and dog-eared muggle novels, a collection of _Defensive Magic Monthly_ magazines and _Magizoology_ journals, and a selection of records, many of which Sirius recognized. There was even a faded Gryffindor quidditch pendant over the mantlepiece, still unmoved after all this time. The house was such a reflection of Remus that it made Sirius’s heart twinge.

Sirius dragged his eyes away from the mantle to watch Remus stash his traveling cloak in a broom cupboard, before moving to sit on the arm of the couch to untie his boots. There was a single furrow between his eyebrows.

“The place looks nice, Moony.”

He spoke because it was hard to be comfortable in the silence, now. It was his first time alone with Remus since before James and Lily had died. His mind kept catching on the corners of unpleasant memories that rose up in the absence of distraction.

“I’ve had a lot of time to live in it,” Remus said, setting aside his boots, “And I try to make a habit of doing the dishes.” Then, with no other preamble, “We’ve got to do something about you, Sirius.” Remus spoke with the air of someone about to give some unfortunate news. Because _that_ wasn’t threatening at all.

“Oh?”

“You need to take a shower, to begin with.”

Was that all? Sirius gave a bark of laughter. “You made it sound like something important.”

“It is important,” Remus said with a tinge of a smile, “Have you looked in a mirror, recently, Sirius? You can’t leave your hair like that. It can’t be comfortable.”

Sirius grimaced. Since escaping Azkaban, he’d developed a hatred of seeing himself in the mirror. “I try to avoid it,” He said wryly. But Remus’s smile stayed bittersweet.

“I’ll see if I can’t change that. I don’t think all of your hair is salvageable, but a lot of it is. I can try my best. Unless you want it short, though, it will take a while. But you should wash yourself first. You’ll feel better.”

“I’m used to the filth,” Sirius said with a grin, “I don’t mind.” That won a laugh out of Remus. It was a gorgeous sound, and he’d developed charming little laugh lines around the corners of his eyes that Sirius wanted the chance to familiarize himself with.

“Do it for the sake of my nose then,” Remus said, “I’m sure the bedsheets will appreciate it, too.”

It had been years since he’d been properly clean. The thought of what the water running off him would look like was enough to turn his stomach, but Remus made a good point. And anyway, Remus had a steady hand at the small of his back and gently but inexorably guided him forward. “There are fresh towels. Just a bit dusty maybe, but clean. Let me know if there isn’t soap in there. Wash up and rinse out your hair, but don’t shampoo – I’m going to have to slick it down with oil anyway.”

“Thanks for the guidance, Mummy Moony,” Sirius said as he stepped into the bathroom.

“I’ll find some clothes for you,” Remus called through the door, “We might as well burn those.”

Fair enough. A decade of use had turned his prisoner’s garb into rags held together with dirt and sweat. Sirius stepped out of them and turned on a hot gush of water from the shower before stepping in.

It took a long time for the water to run clear. It took longer still to scrub his skin until it felt clean and soft again. Remus was right about the hair, though. He ran his hands over it (to run his fingers through it was impossible) and felt great chunks of ratty matting. Difficult to believe that even Remus would be able to do anything about it. He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, then toweled himself off. Somehow, Remus must have snuck in during his shower, because his old rags were gone, replaced by a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a soft, terrycloth robe. Sirius dressed and stepped out of the steamy bathroom.

Remus sat on the sofa, flipping through an old edition of _Music! Magic! Magazine!_ , while a Led Zeppelin album played through the gramophone. On the coffee table was a tub of coconut oil, a pair of barber’s scissors, and a comb. Remus closed the magazine as Sirius rounded the corner of the couch, looking him up and down with an appraising eye. “Better?” Sirius asked with a grin, turning on the spot, arms open.

“Better. But better is relative,” Remus said, nodding to the floor in front of him, “Got a seat for you, Padfoot. Come sit down. We can see about your hair.” Sure enough, Remus had arranged a beanbag chair at his feet—an ancient red corduroy thing that James had given Remus for Christmas their fourth year ‘to spruce up the old shack’.

“I can’t believe you still have this thing!” Sirius said, flopping down onto it. It was more comfortable than it looked: still soft, despite the age.

“I never throw out a present,” Remus said, scooting forward on the couch. “Let’s see…” Remus’s knee brushed his shoulder, and Sirius could feel Remus leaning over him. He cast a hot-air charm, and the weight of the water still trapped in Sirius’s hair began to lessen. After a few moments, Remus cut off the spell, and gave a soft sigh. “Let’s see here,” He said, and with a light touch, he ran his fingers over the thick snarls of Sirius’s hair, before reaching out to grab the vat of coconut oil and open it. He paused, nudging Sirius with his knee—intentionally, this time. “Let me know if I’m hurting you too much, or if you need a break or anything, alright?” Remus said.

“When have you ever known me to keep my mouth shut about something that was bothering me?” Sirius shot back, and Remus laughed. Such a warm and joyous sound. It filled Sirius up in a way that he could never get enough of. “You’ve got a craveable laugh, you know? It’s delicious.” He said, and Remus snorted, but Sirius could hear the smile in it, “All sweet and rich, like a Chocolate Frog.”

“Merlin, you’re a terrible flirt,” Remus said, starting in on the roots of Sirius’s hair, massaging coconut oil slowly down the length of the strands.

“I have such a perfect record of terrible flirting, I figured I had better keep it up,” Sirius said. Behind him, Remus chuckled, low and deep in his chest. Sirius’s heart gave an odd little flutter. It was slow going. Painstakingly, one section of hair at a time, Remus worked the oil into his hair with his fingers, and ever so gently teased at horrible tangles. By the time Robert Plant’s singing died out, Remus had methodically untangled the hair down to Sirius’s ears. If the period hadn’t been interrupted by sporadic bursts of scalp pain, it would have been relaxing. Even with the pain, Sirius eased himself back into the space between Remus’s legs, resting his shoulders against the seat of the couch. “You’ve got the patience of a saint, you know that?” He said. Remus nudged his thigh with the side of his foot, hands still soothing through his hair uninterrupted; though only down to just past his shoulders.

“That’s not true. This isn’t that taxing. Just some tangles,” Remus said, “Anyway, you need taking care of, and I want to help.”

“More than a few tangles,” Sirius protested—but his eyes caught on Remus’s hand, which was making a move for the scissors on the table. “What’s the damage?”

“We’re going to go for a shoulder-length cut, I think. You’re not cut out to be a modern Rapunzel,” He said, “Unless you want to go shorter?”

Sirius laughed, “What, a bob? A crew cut? Nah, not for me, Moony.”

“I didn’t think so,” Remus said, giving the scissors a threatening, experimental snip, “Let’s get rid of this mess, then.” Despite his resolute tone, Remus’s hands remained gentle as ever as he cut away the heavy, matted locks, maintaining as much healthy hair as he could. The difference was immediate and lovely; Sirius felt lighter and cleaner with every snip. More human. As though Remus was cutting months off his time in Azkaban along with the hair. Then with an ease that was surprising after the difficulty that they’d gone through earlier, Remus picked up the comb with his other hand, and started running it through his hair, making smaller, more careful cuts.

“Did you go to cosmetology school while I was away, Moony?” Sirius asked. Remus exhaled hard through his nose; Sirius felt the warmth of his breath on the back of his neck.

“No. This isn’t going to be anything fancy. Just trying to make it all one length. Unless you want to try something really avant-garde?”

“Nah,” Sirius said, and laughed, “I’ll leave you to it. We can go classic.” Remus continued working in almost silence. He could hear Remus’s breath, the delicate sound of the scissors falling shut; he imagined he could hear the steady thrum of Remus’s heart. It all formed a soothing white noise that settled over his skin and sank in; made Sirius notice the scent of wool and a faint whiff of woodsy aftershave that Remus carried with him. He breathed deeper. His muscles uncoiled. By the time Remus set the scissors down and vanished the fallen hair with a wave of his wand, Sirius was feeling truly relaxed.

“How do I look?” He asked, shooting a grin over his shoulder at Remus, who smirked, “More dashing than ever?”

“Like you have half a pint of coconut oil rubbed into your hair,” He shot back, “Back to the shower, you absolute cad.” And with a long-lost lope back in his step, Sirius headed to the bathroom.

This time, the water didn’t run dirty grey-brown first. His body and limbs were already clean, and his hair was light and soft. Sirius soaped it up with shampoo, enjoying the humanizing fluff of the bubbles against his palms, and the way his hair moved the way it once had, with the flow of the water or the movement of his hands. After only a few minutes of letting himself bask, he stepped out of the shower. It hadn’t even been long enough to fog up the mirror.

Naked—dripping—Sirius studied himself. The pockets in his cheeks and beneath his eyes had been eaten out, giving him a grim, skeletal look. He could see the spaces between his ribs, and the scooped-out space of his stomach, where muscle had wasted and fat had been chewed away by years of austerity. His skin didn’t glow like it used to; it had a sallow, unhealthy look to it. But he was clean, and his teeth were still good, and his hair had a promising wave to it, even wet. Sirius stole Remus’s toothbrush for a thorough clean before studying himself again. The crow’s feet didn’t look half bad now that they weren’t highlighted with grime. And if his hair was shot through with silver, who would complain? He could gain weight again; his face would fill out. He might even shake off the aches in his back and joints from so long spent sleeping in cold and hard places.

Putting the pajamas back on and sliding into the robe again, Sirius walked back out into the main room. The impromptu seat at the foot of the couch had been cleared away. There was unfamiliar, synth-heavy rock playing from the gramophone, and Remus—barefooted, and having changed into jeans and a plaid shirt—was puttering around the kitchen. He wasn’t dancing, but there was a subtle rhythm to his movements as he peeked in the oven to prod at roasting vegetables or stirred a pot of beans on the stovetop. The enchanted candles threw pretty patterns of light and shadow into Remus’s raucous curls, and Sirius leaned against the bathroom door frame, drinking him in. Remus looked older than he had, sure. But he looked no less beautiful. And that arse. Those jeans did everything to highlight the excellence of Remus’s arse. Sirius grinned. “What are you cooking, Moony?” He asked as he walked into the kitchen area, fingers performing a bold drift across the small of Remus’s back as he went to peer under the lid of a pot, finding rice steaming.

“Spiced and roasted spring vegetables, beans and rice over a bed of greens. I’m sorry I don’t have any meat—I was eating most of my meals at Hogwarts,” Remus said, smiling back, “There will be tea and biscuits too, though, or chocolate, if you like.”

“Or both?” Sirius said, and Remus laughed, which made his heart skip a beat. 

“Just leave a little for me.”

“Mmm, can’t make any promises.”

“As long as you try your best for me,” Remus said, hip nudging in a way that might have been unintentional, but maybe not, against Sirius’s own as he went to grab the tea from a cupboard, the corners of his eyes crinkled warmly.

“For you? Anything,” Sirius said, and Remus gave him a playful, accusatory look as he went to the sink to fill the kettle.


End file.
